Killed in Action
by DC Redux
Summary: Once a decorated war hero, Oliver Queen was betrayed by his brothers and left for dead. Now he returns to wage a bloody war of revenge against not only them but also the government institution that covered it up. This isn't your father's Green Arrow. [Features some racist language, courtesy of the villain.] [AU with elements from the comics.] [Part of the DC Redux Universe.]
1. Prelude

**Oliver Queen in**

" **Sharpshooter"**

 **Brought to you by DC Redux**

 **Written By George Jones**

* * *

 **Present Day  
Portland, Maine**

A woman, laid flat in a bed, stretched her arm out from under the duvet and went to wrap it around her husband's warm body. It only met a cold mattress. She opened her eyes to see her man standing by the window and staring out through a small gap in the crimson curtains. She could see that he was tense and agitated. The woman sat up in the bed and rubbed her tired eyes. "Honey, come back to bed." She spoke softly through a yawn.

The man turned his head, his eyes were dilated like a fawn caught in the headlights. He spun on his heels and went back into bed, sweat was now pouring off his brow.

"What's the matter, baby? Another bad dream?" She asked as she placed her hand upon his cheek.

"No, it's not that. It's what I told you before, about my old-"

"Honey, I told you, it's all in your head. I'm sure what happened to Doug and Wayne was just a coincidence"

"It's not just Doug and Wayne. They found Mike this morning. I didn't tell you. I'm the last one alive that got out of Burma. All three in the space of a few weeks, I'm telling you somebody is coming after us. I don't know why. I'm need to protect you"  
Her face suddenly became worried as her husband climbed back out of bed and opened up the bedside table. He pulled out a glock handgun and went back to the window.

"You're scaring me." She said as she sat up and pulled her nightgown over her naked body.

"Go back to bed. Sleep!" He barked.

"I'm calling the police…" she said in near hysterics and she ran across the room and picked up the landline phone that sat on the bedside table on her side of the bed.

"Put that fucking phone down!" He screamed.

"…the line's dead…" she said now through streams of tears.

* * *

 **BOOM!**

The room shook with a loud bang as their bedroom door swung open as if it had been shot with a double-barrelled shotgun. The man spun around and fired his handgun at the door, peppering it with holes. His wife stood, frozen still in terror, as a dark figure wearing a hood and cape rushed into the room with a Navy SEAL dagger in one hand and a bow in the other.

The phantom menace, in the blink of an eye, threw the dagger across the room and struck the woman in the leg, dropping her to the floor. The man fired the last couple of rounds in his pistol towards their attacker but his shots missed as the hooded man grasped his bow with both hands and swung in with the strength of a mountain gorilla, striking the man across the face and sending him crashing to the floor.

He dropped the handgun as he scrambled on the floor, his nose and several teeth broken, pouring blood. The hooded man delivered a bone-crunching stamp to the man's knee, breaking it in several places. The man howled in pain as their attacker stood over him and pulled down his hood to reveal a blonde bearded man.

"Hello David!"

"Oliver?" David panted through mouthfuls of blood "But you're-"

"Dead? Yes, I thought so too."

"I'm so sorry! There hasn't been a day since it happened that I haven't regret what we did out there!"

"We were brothers! We were comrades! And you left me in some stinking jungle to die like a wounded dog!"

"Oliver, please! I can get you money! A lot of it, just don't kill my wife!"

"Your wife!? I'm not here for her. Not all the money in the world could repair my mind"

"Just-just make it quick then."

"Oh. I will."

* * *

 **6 Years Ago  
Pakistan**

The blazing sun belted down upon Oliver Queen's face, his body hidden by thick bush and foliage on the side of a steep hillside ridge, overlooking the Taliban training encampment below. His Barrett M82 rested in its tripod next to him, also hidden. Oliver lowered his binoculars from his face and rested his heart as adrenalin began to pump into his veins.  
"Radio. Check in. 'Snake-eyes' to 'Arrow'. Do you copy?" Queen's satellite phone, which sat next to him, buzzed.

Oliver reached down for it and held it to his ear. "This is 'Arrow', copy."

"Has the target been sighted?"

"Abbas is still inside the barracks, he hasn't left in about two hours, forty-six minutes."

"Copy that 'Arrow'. 'Snake-eyes' out."

Oliver placed the satellite phone back into its pouch, took a sip of water from his cantina and raised his binoculars back to his face.  
From the foliage behind him came Oliver's sniper spotter who quietly lowered himself back down besides his partner.

"Nice of you to join me, speedy." Oliver quipped with a warm smirk.

"Oh very Funny 'Arrow', did you come up with that yourself?" The kid teased back "Abbas moved yet?"

"No. Still plenty of time for our friend to become confirmed kill 67."

"Hey, Ollie."

"Yeah, Roy?"

"Why'd you join the military?"

"Same reason as any of us."

"No no, I joined because I couldn't get a job stacking shelves in Walmart. You're the son of a millionaire."

"Well. Guess I joined cus that's what asshole teens do- the opposite of what their parents want."

"You ever regret it?"

"More regrets than you'd ever believe."

"Like wha-"

"What is this? The Late Late show? Shut up."

"Right."

Oliver smiled to himself. He liked the kid. Another half-an-hour passed with still no sight of Abbas.

"Ollie." Roy whispered as he glared down on the encampment through his own binoculars "I think I've found our target."

Oliver pulled the M82 close and rested his finer on the trigger "I see him. How many yards?"

"900."

Oliver adjusted his scope "Wind?"

"All clear. Uh. You got this?"

Oliver didn't answer. His rifle kicked back as he pulled the trigger. The round whistled through the air and down the ridge as the heavy 50. calibre round ripped Abbas' body in half and spread his entrails across the wall behind him and to the floor below.

"Time to get the hell outta dodge!" Oliver said as he began to take the rifle off of the tripod.

"Now I see why they called you the 'Arrow'."

"Kid, shut up and get moving."

* * *

 **Present Day  
Star City**

Inside of a dark and empty office room in an abandoned warehouse, Oliver sat in front of a small TV set that was playing the local news. In the corner of the room, an empty barrel filled with wooden logs burned.

" _This shocking saga of events carries on, after returning from the dead military legend Oliver Queen son of the late businessman Robert Queen has sold off the majority stock shares of Queen industries for a reported sum close 450 Million dollars. Queen's whereabouts are unknown currently and our sources say the military are opening up a new investigation to how he could have been pronounced KIA. Updates to follow as we receive them"_

Queen switched off the TV set and leaned back in his chair. His body was sore and tight; scars were etched on his body like rivers on a map. He rubbed his eyes and heavily breathed in. The memories wouldn't stop, what happened in Burma, what they did to him.

Oliver reached down and picked up his bow that laid flat on the floor next to him, he placed it in his lap and inspected it. _No more guns, never again_ , he vowed to himself. Queen stood up and swung the bow over his shoulder and walked over to his duffle bag, which rested on a rotting table in the corner of the room. Oliver reached into it and pulled out his collection of medals and pictures of him during his time in the military, tossing them into the flames of the burning barrel. _Fascists_ , he thought to himself as the pictures turned black. He then turned back around and tears began to run down his face, he was a broken man. Alone.

"I'm sorry, Dad" The veteran wept as he crumbled to his knees and held his face in his hands "I'm so sorry."

Oliver took the dagger that sat in his belt and pressed it against his wrist. He sobbed uncontrollably, the memories of what he saw and did racing through his mind, he couldn't control the pain. He just wanted it to end. The misery. The anger. The thirst for revenge. And then… a figure entered the room. He recognised it. It was that of his father.

"Dad?" Oliver said through tearful eyes.

"Don't do it, son."

"I can't take it any longer- the pain."

"Use it, Oliver, use the pain and do some good. Make me proud"

"How?"

"That's for you to discover on your own."

As Oliver tossed the dagger across the floor and away from him the figure disappeared and he was again alone in the dark room. "I'll do it for you, father. For you. I promise."

* * *

 **Stay tuned for more one-shots introducing your favourite classic DC characters to this bold, daring new universe!**

 **Oliver Queen will return in DC Redux's "KIA" by George Jones**

 **Coming Soon**


	2. KIA-1

**Green Arrow**

 **KIA** **#1**

 **By George Jones**

 **" _But his soul was mad. Being alone in the wilderness, it had looked within itself and, by heavens I tell you, it had gone mad."  
―_ _Joseph Conrad_ _,_ _Heart of Darkness_**

* * *

 **Present Day.**

The stench of this City is overpowering, returning home I have traded one hell hole for another. One thing I have learnt from my travels is that we're all the same. We are all evil and corruptible. Leaders and rulers feed the masses lies and bullshit to stay in power or force their hand to stay in power when their bullshit is no longer enough. I was once employed by the government to kill people who didn't look like me, who didn't speak like me or pray to the same gods. This way I un humanised them to the point where taking a life meant nothing.

I was paid to kill the right people and was branded a hero for it. Funny that the act of killing isn't the taboo it's just whether or not you kill the right person. I have seen things you wouldn't believe but the memories will all fade in time like tears in the rain. The only thing I will have is the memory of once having those memories, essentially making it all a lie. American…the land of the free, what a joke. A country born on the ideals of equality and democracy but yet blacks are still getting gunned down on the street by cops and little kiddies are being blown away in their schools by crazed teens with automatic rifles.

This is madness, it's all madness. This is truly the asylum being run by the inmates. I wish I had never came back but I had to. To kill them for what they did to me. I was a weapon and I wanted a mission and for my sins they gave me one. We were sent out to Burma to dislodge a local warlord chieftain. The man had numerous wives, some of which were children. He was killing all those who opposed him and would display their naked bodies in the centre of villages as an example to the rest and it didn't matter if it was men, women or children. He was scum and he needed to die.

As it would happen I would never reach this man and personally, end him. But that story is for another time to tell. In those years spent in those jungles after I had been left to die I truly found out who I was and the nature of humanity at its worst. I had been plunged into darkness and yet madness did not take me over and consume my soul.

" _He has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is detestable. And it has a fascination, too, which goes to work upon him. The fascination of the abomination you know."  
―_ _ **Joseph Conrad**_ _,_ _ **Heart of Darkness**_

* * *

Elsewhere.

The body lay in the alleyway, still warm. The forensics team were taking blood samples from the large wound on the chest of the recently deceased man. Detective Mack Morgan sat inside his unmarked police car and finished off his cigarette as the storm clouds above began to lash down heavy droplets of rain. Morgan who was newly promoted stepped out of the car with a sigh and tossed his cigarette to the ground. He tried to shake the cobwebs from his head as he approached the lead forensic agent with a semi-smile.

"What we got tonight then?" Morgan said trying to sound interested

"Well, this one's quite interesting actually. Found the body with an arrow lodged in his chest. Nothing I've ever seen before in 15yrs"

"An arrow?" Mack retorted with surprise

"Yeah, Game of Thrones shit. No markings, this thing was handmade"

"And the victim?"

"Male; Charles Green. Two stints in state, five in county. Rape, burglary, arson. We have witness in the back of Officer Davies car, crazy story on this one"

Mack smiled and patted the man on the shoulder as he turned on his heel and jogged back down the alley and over to the patrol car the witness was in and climbed into the back seat. The witness was a heavy set man with a big moustache and bad skin.

"I'm detective Mack Morgan-"

"Great. I told the officer here what happened but I guess you want me to tell you too?"

"If you don't mind," Mack said annoyed

"That bastard came at me with a knife, asked for my wallet and watch. Before I could say anything this fucking arrow came out from the sky and hit him in the chest. Honest truth, do I really look like a fucking archery enthusiast?"

"No, you certainly don't" Morgan answered back sarcastically using every effort and will inside of himself not to punch the man in the mouth

"Can I go now then?"

"Sure, an Officer will be in touch in the next couple days-"

Mack was cut off by the slamming of the car door as the man swiftly (for his size) made his exit into the rain.

SEAL TEAM/SPECIAL FORCES BEAURU OFFICE

Location: ********** *******

Behind the large ornate oak desk sat General William O'Neil, head of operations for all covert black ops missions of US military personnel. On paper, this man didn't exist. Behind him stood his bodyguard, a secret serviceman and in front of him sat Chester Wallace who was his second in the command chain.

"The official report says that Queen was terminated during the mission-" Wallace said with a worried expression

"Listen! I don't give a shit what the report says. The man is alive and this does not look good on us! We have sworn statements saying his body was buried and his dogtags returned. I have the President breathing down my neck asking me how people come back from the dead. Bring Queen in now! If he goes to the press and discloses what happened, we'll incite an international crisis for collapsing the Burmese government, not to mention the laws that we've broken. He could expose it all. He knows too much"

"Sir, Queen has gone AWOL again. Our men lost him at-"

Chester Wallace was interrupted as the room door was slammed open, Roy Harper who was wrestling off two other men fought his way into the room.

"YOU FUCKING KNEW HE WAS ALIVE DIDN'T YOU!" Roy screamed as he was tackled to the floor with pistols aimed at his head.

"Get that sonvabich out of my office!"

"You covered it up! You fucking knew!" Roy barked as he dragged out the room.

Star City

"The Triangle"

The large group of African-American gang members stood at the centre of the derelict car park. Burnt out vehicles blocked the entrances. The small crowd were doped up and drunk; fighting, sharing around women and performing doughnuts in her cars. The merriment quickly stopped as the white costumed figure of man slowly came walking to the centre of the carpark. He had a red cross symbol on his chest and black armour gauntlets and shoulder pads, a white mask covered his entire head only for two eye slits. The man stood well over 6 feet tall and 300lbs of pure muscle. The gang members fell silent and stood in disbelief.

"You all have 3 minutes to leave before I start killing you all" the man said. At first, the crowd was silent.

"FUCK YOU!" A shout came

"WHO THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" Another shout came

"Bloodsport"

As the man finished his answer he pulled two high powered custom pistols from his back, but these pistols fired with the ferocity of bazookas. Bloodsport sprayed the first rows of the crowd. Bodies fell to the floor in heaps. Bloodsport swiftly dove for cover behind a burnt out car as numerous gang members drew their own pistols and fired back.

"WHITE POWER!" He screamed as he reached for a grenade from his belt and tossed it towards his attackers. In the confusion of the blast, he stood up and sprayed another deadly hail of bullets. Many of the gang members now began to run, many lay dead and many lay wounded. Bloodsport continued to fire and laugh manically as he rained down round after round…

Meanwhile.

Oliver Queen climbed down through the skylight of the warehouse and made his way down in the office of the derelict building where he had been living the last few weeks. He tossed his bow onto the floor and switched on the TV which was powered by a small generator. Oliver sat down and wiped the blood off his hands and face.

"A mass shooting occurred 20minutes ago in the lower east side of Star City. All citizens have been advised by the Mayor to stay indoors until the gunman is taken down. Witnesses say a costumed man opened fire on a group of gang affiliated youths. Updates to follow"

Oliver sat back in his chair and stared deeply at the blood at stained his hands. A million thoughts ran through his head.

"Stop him son," the cold voice came from behind. Oliver turned around so fast he fell onto the floor.

Sweat poured down his body as he gazed at the corners of the empty room. Oliver shook his head in disbelief and scrambled back onto the chair.

" _It is as inhuman to be totally good as it is to be totally evil."  
―_ _ **Anthony Burgess**_ _,_ _ **A Clockwork Orange**_

* * *

 **TO BE CONTINUED…**


	3. KIA-2

**Green Arrow**

 **KIA**

 **#2**

 **By George Jones**

* * *

" _The important thing is moral choice. Evil has to exist along with good, in order that moral choice may operate. Life is sustained by the grinding opposition of moral entities."_  
― **Anthony Burgess** **,** **A Clockwork Orange**

* * *

"Step out of the car son" the police officer said as he tapped on the window of the car that he had just pulled over. The driver responded and the window slowly came down to reveal the face of a young black man. A nervous expression spread across his face.

"I said step out of the fucking car, you deaf?"

The man unclipped his belt buckle and got out of the vehicle.

"Hands on the hood of the car and don't move or I'll put one in your leg and say you came at me"

The driver complied, _piece of shit_ he thought to himself as the officer leaned into the car with his torch.

"Well, look what I've found" the officer smiled as he came out of the car holding a small bag of marijuana.

The officer put the cannabis in his pocket and reached for his handcuffs "You have the right to remain-"

But before the officer could finish a green arrow pierced the wing mirror of the car, hundreds of broken shards of glass fell to the floor. The officer spun on his heels to see the figure of a green hooded man aiming a bow straight at him.

"Let him go" the bearded archer spoke softly

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" the officer barked as he raised his own gun and aimed it at the archer.

"Lower the gun. Nobody needs to get hurt tonight"

"Buddy, you're under arrest too"

"No, I'm not, now lower the gun"

"You have till the count of three to lower your weapon…one…two…"

The finger on the trigger began to twitch, in the blink of an eye the archer released his arrow and it flew straight down the barrel of the officer's gun, knocking it out of his hand with the pure velocity of the bolt.

"Hey kid, get in the car and go. You ever do this again, or you'll have me to deal with"

"Sure thing mister" the driver answered as he quickly scrambled into the car and drove off.

"Well fucking done, you just let a criminal get away"

"He's not a criminal, he's a dumb kid with some weed"

"He broke the fucking law!"

"He broke your law. What's he get? Year for possession, fine and a criminal record which would stop him ever getting a job again?"

"That's the risk he chose to take!"

"You're not protecting people; you're controlling them"

"Hey, 'Robin Hood' I'm just following orders!"

"People don't need to be at the will of other people following orders"

The archer punched the officer out cold with a swift slap of his bow and escaped into the darkness of the night.

* * *

 **5 years before**

 **US ARMY BASE, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES**

Oliver lay on his bed with his mobile phone waiting for a reply off his girlfriend; Dinah. They had been seeing each other for five months. Ollie smiled as his phone vibrated.

* _Can we talk?_ *

* _yeah sure, what's up?*_

 _*nothing, can we facetime?*_

" _im free now if that's cool?*_

 _*im free yeah*_

Oliver's heart began to sink as he scrolled through his contacts to find her name. He felt his heart was about to be broken but when her face came up on his screen it still made him smile on the inside.

"Hey, what's up?" Oliver asked

"I don't think I can do this any longer"

"I guess we don't have nothing else to talk about then if you're ending it?" Oliver replied, his heart felt like it had been pierced with a spear

"No we do, Oliver I really really like you and you know that. But I feel really fucking guilty when you tell me that you love me and I can't say it back. I've been in your position before and it's awful and it'll only get worse for you if we keep going along with this"

"Jesus, you're ending it cus I said I loved you once when I was drunk?"

"You've said it a few times now Oliver, sober too. You're a great guy and you'll find someone who-"

"Please don't patronise me, Dinah, I deserve more than that at least"

"I'm not. I'm really not. I hope you understand how difficult this is for me cus I really do like you but I've been in your shoes before and I know how horrible it is"

"Whatever. Goodbye Dinah"

Oliver ended the facetime call and threw his phone to one side. He had never felt pain like it, she was the first woman he had ever truly loved and yet his love wasn't enough. This was his first heartbreak and it really did suck, the times he had spent with her were some of the few times he had ever truly felt happy and now it was over.

The barracks door opened and a head popped through.

"Hey Ol, Burma it is. Briefing 20:00"

Oliver smiled and nodded his head masking the pain that he felt inside his soul.

* * *

 **Present day.**

 _Journal entry._

 _The City has been on complete lockdown since the shooting. The stupid police and army have helicopters in the skies 24/7 and yet they still can't found this asshole. Guy went into a black neighbourhood and shot up a gang of black youths, seems like we have a crazed racist on the loose._

 _The Mayor issued a new curfew for all citizens, there're patrol cars on every corner, road blocks everywhere. Damn police state. Luckily I know how to stay off the grid. Big Brother is watching us all._

 _Everybody is now scared of their shadows, this City has never had a shooting before and now everybody thinks there's a gunman around every corner. I see it in the way they move and walk around. This is no way to live._

 _The news won't shut up about me, I've been officially declared a missing person for a few weeks now. Pretty amazing. One interview with them and I could bring now the whole diseased corrupt temple in on their heads. If I told them the foreign regimes we toppled illegally, the heads of states we assassinated, the revolutionaries we trained and supplied. I'm still debating what I shall do. No matter what, those who played their part will be brought to justice but I have enough trouble here to deal with before I plunge the western world in global crisis…that can wait for now._

 _Now I need sleep and rest._

* * *

 **Burma.**

 **5 years ago.**

"Arrow, we have a situation here. We're in trouble brother"

"Shit" Oliver put his radio now, rose himself from his hiding lookout spot in the thick heavy undergrowth and raced back to his small unit further down the jungle pass. Sweat raced down his face as he came to the clearing to find Doug, Mike, Wayne and Chris stood in front of three boys on their knees.

"Who the fuck are they?" Oliver asked

"Fucking boy soldiers" Doug answered pointing to a heap of cheap AK47s on the floor, weapons they had taken from them "Fuckhead over here didn't spot them walking straight into us"

"I fucked up, I should've seen them," said Wayne

"Damn right you fucked up, the whole mission is now compromised" Chris spat angrily

"What we do? Tie them up and move on?" Wayne suggested

"You can't tie them up in his heat, god knows how long it'd take for them to be found. Fucking days maybe" Oliver remarked

"I say we terminate the compromise ourselves and move on," Chris said as he looking down at his weapon.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?! We in the child execution business now Chris?" Oliver spat with venom "This is fucked up. What happens if this thing gets blown open? Illegal SEAL Team execute children?"

Chris shrugged his shoulders "Listen, I care about you and getting out of here alive and if that means-"

Oliver barked at Wayne and Doug "You guys going to say anything?!"

"Listen, man, even if we cut them loose our cover is blown. You think they'll not tell anyone about this?" Wayne answered back

"I can't believe I'm hearing this"

"Then what the fuck do you suggest Oliver?! Nobody has to know a thing. I'll do it if nobody else will" Chris said as he clicked his gun off safety

"You piece of shit!"

Oliver stomped over to the boys and stood in front of them "If you're going to shoot them, you'll have to shoot me first. No women and no children, I may have done a lot of fucked up things in my time but I'm not killing kids now"

Oliver's heart began to race as he looked at the faces of his men…

* * *

 **Present Day.**

Oliver Queen knew it was time to put his ear on the ground if he was to find this shooter, he needed some intel and anything could help. His beard was very bushy now and his hair unkempt making him all but unrecognisable. Oliver wore a baggy hoody with the hood up over a Star City Rockets baseball cap and made his way out into the world.

Oliver walked down the roughest parts of the City, in a hundred yards he was offered magic mushrooms, weed, Cocaine and a 'good time'. But he felt sympathy for them all, the trodden on who were forced to such lengths because of the rich keeping them down. Nobody wants to sell drugs or their pussy Oliver thought, they must feel pretty desperate.

Oliver spotted a youngish man on a street corner who looked out of place even among this filth, his head was freshly shaven, he wore a white vest with camo trousers and army boots. He was trying to stop people in the street to speak to them like a salesman but only to the white faces.

Oliver smiled to himself and walked slowly past the man.

"Hey man, you look terrible! You know why you're in the gutter like so many other hard working Americans?" the bald man asked

"Enlighten me" Oliver answered

"Affirmative action! Taking jobs from us and giving them to wops, niggers and spics. We're overrun by them!"

Oliver smirked at the man "What can I do about it though heh?"

"Come meet some 'friends' of mine who hold some similar viewpoints. We have a rally coming up very soon"

"You head of recruitment?" Oliver said sarcastically

"You could say that. Just helping out fellow brothers. How about it then?"

Oliver looked the man up and down "Yeah sure". _This could be the lead I need_ Oliver thought to himself as he shook the man's hand.

* * *

" _Perhaps a lunatic was simply a minority of one."_  
― **George Orwell** **,** **1984**

 **TO BE CONTINUED…**


	4. KIA-3

**Green Arrow**

 **KIA**

 **#3**

 **By George Jones**

* * *

 **" _The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing"_**

 **-Edmund Burke**

* * *

 **Present Day.**

Oliver Queen walked down the street with the address he had been given engrained in his brain. Ollie was all for people power but not in this way, twisted scaremongering of the socially deprived. The bearded archer walked past a tall Asian woman who was clearly a lady of the night.

"Hey, mister? Fancy the best hour of your life?" she asked blowing a kiss

Oliver pulled out a $50 from his pocket and handed it to her "Go get yourself a coffee and something to eat on me"

She looked at him in disbelief and put the money in her purse. He smiled at her and continued on his way. It didn't take him long to get to the address, it was a large derelict warehouse much like the one he was currently living in. There were a collection of small groups smoking outside and two 'officials' guarding the door in. They were both skinheads with camo trousers and white vests.

Oliver turned his head around looking out for cops, the last thing he needed was to be nabbed at a fascist rally and thrown in jail.

He continued down the street past the warehouse and looped around behind it on an adjoining street. Oliver was now at the back the warehouse, he crept behind a dumpster and only spotted one man on guard. _Time for a distraction_ Ollie thought to himself and he stood up and began to walk towards the man pretending to be shot up on heroin and drink. He was drooling down his own face and walking like he was about to fall on his ass with the slightest push.

"Hey, bum! Turn around and get the hell outta here!" the man shouted at Oliver

"Spare some change?" Oliver asked as he came within touching distance

"You have 2 seconds before I ram your head up your ass and make you wish you'd died as a child"

Oliver dropped to his knees in the blink of an eye and swept the man's ankles with a devastating kick, breaking numerous bones in an instance. The man crumbled to the floor crying out in pain, Oliver then choked him out to shut him up. The incognito Green Arrow stood back up and looked for a way into the warehouse.

* * *

warehouse.

 **Inside.**

A wooden stage had been erected at the front of the large open space of the warehouse, a big group of about 50 people crowded in front of it; drinking, screaming and throwing up fascist salutes. However, the crowd fell silent as a tall, blonde and very muscular man walked onto the stage. He was dressed all in camos and worse a red cross badge on his arm. The man's name was Alex Trent.

"Thank you all for coming this evening Gentlemen,birthright" he said as he raised his arms into the air with a sadistic smile.

"Our time is now! Our time to birthright! Our birthright that has been taken away from us by Mexicans, Jews, and the blacks. They either come into our country illegally and steal our jobs, become gangsters and pimps or bleed to the country dry financially"

Oliver was kneeling in the rafters above listening to the spout off lies being spoken below.

"I proclaim that if your all real men that we reclaim the night! We strike fear into them for a change! Who is with me?!"

The crowd roared.

* * *

 **Meanwhile.**

 **Studio 4, Channel 7 news**

Dinah Lance could have jumped out of her seat and throttled the man she was sat opposite. The controversial Zach Georgios of twitter and blogging fame.

"This is the American way; these people have nothing. Literally, nothing and they want to come here to make something of themselves and have better lives" Dinah argued passionately

Zach smirked back "They're refugees' Dinah, they have no VISA's or permits. They're coming here in their thousands like they did into Europe unchecked. Just look at the mess in Europe now, shootings, bombings and attacks that all could have been prevented"

Dinah shook her head "Why are they refugees' though? Because we and the powers in Europe bombed their cities into the dirt"

"Let their own government take care of them, not ours. We need to pour that money into hard working 'Americans'!"

"We destroyed their governments!"

The anchor smiled as the main camera was moved onto him "Looks like this debate could last all night. Please, one word answers to wrap this up. Should Star City accept refuges from the middle east as the government is proposing?"

"No"

"Yes"

"That's all we have time for sadly folks. The text polls are now open on the debate and we'll show the results on tomorrow night's show. G'night"

Dinah stormed off her seat and back towards the dressing room. _Asshole_ she thought to herself as she looked backwards to see Georgios pandering to the audience and running up and down giving the front row high fives.

* * *

 **Elsewhere.**

Oliver Queen was still in the rafters of the building as the sickening call to arms continued. He was working out his next move when the warehouse doors were pulled open from the outside. 40 of Star Cities finest came rushing in swinging their baton's wildly. Just outside stood Mack Morgan who had coordinated the assault. The first row of the crowd fell like dominoes, in a state of surprise they had their bodies belted by the unforgiving batons.

The crowd, however, began to fight back and soon a huge melee was in progress. Oliver's eyes were directed to the stage as he saw Alex Trent make a run for the back entrance. The bearded archer swiftly began his own descent from the rafters after the killer.

Trent ran straight out and was hit by a big waft of the cold night air.

"The hell?" he said to himself as he saw the body of the man Oliver had already taken down. Trent cursed under his breath and began to run.

"FUCK!" Trent howled in pain as a green arrow pierced the back of his shoulder, sending him crashing to the floor.

"There's plenty more where that came from" Oliver shouted as he jumped down back to ground level. Trent grabbed the shaft of the arrow that was lodged in his shoulder and pulled it out without a howl of pain. Oliver loaded another arrow into his bow as his target rose to his feet and began to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"You? What are you meant to be? Robin Hood?" Trent mocked

"I know it was you. The shooting. Ex-SEAL dishonourably discharged for almost beating a Mexican drill instructor to death. Firearms expert. Previous known affiliation with the Aryan Brotherhood"

Trent's smile left his face "You are part of the problem!"

"The only problem I see here is where I place this arrow in your body"

"A white brother standing against us. Against progression. Your kind hold us back from taking back what was our birthright!"

"You're a real piece of shit you know that?"

"Think whatever you want. But one thing I do know for sure is that a lot of cops will be coming through that door as soon as their done with that lot inside and I do believe they'd be very interested in talking to you? I heard a body was found the other night with an arrow very similar to this one found in his chest? You think you can talk your way out of that one?"

 _Shit_ Oliver thought to himself, he was right.

"See you around" Trent laughed as the backdoor he had come through was kicked open from the inside.

"Star City PD! Drop the weapon!" they screamed as four or five cops came rushing out into the cool night air.

Trent escaped into the darkness of the night amidst the chaos. Oliver swore to himself under his breath. _STUPID!_ He thought to himself as he turned around and raised his hands into the air.

"Drop the weapon!" they screamed again as they aimed their pistols at Oliver's head.

* * *

 **" _Hatred is blind; rage carries you away, and he who pours out vengeance runs the risk of tasting a bitter draught."_**  
 **― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo**


	5. KIA-4

**Green Arrow**

 **KIA**

 **#4**

 **By George Jones**

" _Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another."_  
― **Ernest** **Hemingway**

* * *

 **Previously…**

" _Star City PD! Drop the weapon!" they screamed as four or five cops came rushing out into the cool night air._

 _Trent escaped into the darkness of the night amidst the chaos. Oliver swore to himself under his breathe. STUPID! He thought to himself as he turned around and raised his hands into the air._

" _Drop the weapon!" they screamed again as they aimed their pistols at Oliver's head._

* * *

Oliver Queen's eyes dilated as he looked down the barrel of the pistols that were aimed at his head. His heart pounded hard and it felt like it was going to break through his chest and then all felt calm. The skies turned black casting a dark shadow across everything, time froze around Oliver. The bearded archer gazed confused as the cops turned into living statues, completely still like paintings.

Oliver lowered his arms and turned around. A few yards in front of him stood a taller than average man. His smooth, pale body was only covered with a loincloth. His eyes were deep set and pitch black, he looked calm and serene with the world. He took one step forward and smiled a strangely warm and welcoming smile.

"Who are you?" Oliver asked the man bewildered

"History has given me many names; Mot, Thanatos, Ankou, Samael, Azrael or simply Death"

"This can't be real"

"Oliver Queen, I have walked at your side for many years now. You sent me many hundreds of souls, some justly others unjustly but it was their time none the less"

"I'm not ready yet-"

"Oliver in the following few seconds of time, Officer Simon Ward there will pull the trigger on his Beretta 92 and the 9mm round will pierce your subclavian artery and you will bleed to death in the back of an ambulance thinking about Dinah Lance"

Oliver's knees began to wobble as his mind suddenly turned to his long and lost love.

"What happens after that?"

"Come sit" Death said as he gestured to a bench that suddenly appeared to the side of the pair. Oliver took uneasy steps and sat down next to Death.

"So, you asked what happens next? Well, your identity is revealed to the world-"

"No I mean what happens to me? After…what does it feel like?"

"Well what did the billions of years of existence before you were born feel like?"

Oliver looked down at his hands as a melancholy feeling rushed over him like a heavy tide.

"I have too much to do, I know my mission now. My real mission. I'm not a killer anymore"

"Yet you killed that man in the alleyway the other night"

Oliver felt guilt, his hypocrisy had been exposed by the omnipotent being

"I believe you have a good soul Oliver but you are very misguided in many ways"

"Is it my time then?"

"Perhaps Oliver, perhaps not"

"What do you mean?"

"Currently Oliver, your soul is going to purgatory for your crimes you have committed. But it doesn't have to be that way. I may be Death but I believe in second chances for those who truly deserve it, you have been used as an agent of chaos for too long. If you wish redemption you will become my agent but an agent of good. If you save lives as efficiently as you once took them then I can cleanse your soul. If not, then I can just take you away now"

Oliver rubbed his face.

"You want me to work for you?" the emerald archer laughed in misbelief

"I guess you could put it that way. What is your answer Oliver Queen? Do you accept my proposition?"

"What if I want it all over, to come with you. To end it all. These years and years of misery and pain. I can't take it"

Death tapped Oliver on the knee "If you choose to come with me then you will never see Dinah again"

Oliver's head snapped sideways "Why do you keep bringing her up?"

"Because you love her"

"No I don't. That ended a long time ago" he answered through gritted teeth

"Oliver, I'm omnipotent" Death laughed "You've always loved her, a part of you always will even if you convince yourself you stopped caring"

"If you really are all knowing then you should know she didn't love me back"

"She cares for you more than you ever thought"

"Yeah but it wasn't enough"

"What is your answer Oliver?"

"So what happens? You wave a wand and I wake up-"

"No. I take the souls of these policemen in exchange for yours"

Oliver's eyes widened "You'll just kill them?"

"I don't kill people. I just ease them onto the next plain. Their lives will forever be on your conscience"

Oliver looked back down at the floor "Fine. Do it. I won't fail"

Within the blink of an eye Death, the bench, the black sky disappeared and Oliver was back standing

In front of the cops like nothing had happened. But as they were about to speak, their eyes went completely white as their bodies turned lifeless and fell to the ground in heaps. Oliver gasped in shock and almost vomited at the sight. He quickly turned on his heels and escaped off into the night.

* * *

 **Former Queen Estate Mansion**

The large 19th century house lay on the outskirts of Star City and sat in a certain type of sadness. Its walls had been unlived in for many years now though the property was still in Oliver's name. The gardens were overgrown and the interior of the building had faired just as bad, inches of dust and cobwebs had collected everywhere. The silence that had fallen for years was suddenly broken.

"No Sir, the building is empty. No one's been here for a long while" the man said into his ear piece mic. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked out onto the porch and pulled a cigarette out of one of his trouser pouches and placed it in his mouth.

"Yeah, we checked the basement and the gardens. Queen isn't here" the man spoke again

His lit the cigarette and inhaled the first deep breath as one of his men came jogging out onto the porch to join him.

"Sir, we have a confirmed sighting of Queen. We need to move out"

* * *

 **TO BE CONTINUED**

" _He had been reborn into the knowledge of death; and the inescapability of change, of things-never-the-same, of no-way-back, made him afraid. When you lose the past you're naked in front of contemptuous Azraeel, the death-angel. Hold on if you can, he told himself. Cling to yesterdays. Leave your nail-marks in the grey slope as you slide."_  
― **Salman Rushdie**


	6. XMas Special

**Green Arrow**

 **KIA Christmas Special**

 **"Ho, Ho, Ho!"**

 **By Ivan Krolo**

* * *

 _"Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone."_

\- **Charles M. Schulz** **  
**

* * *

Oliver Queen was not a man easily taken by the beauty of his surroundings as he used to be during his childhood. The trials of his adult life had all but burned the very concept out of him.

His time in the military, particularly during Pakistan, had taught him to view everything around him as a potential threat. A small hill could hold a sniper ready to blow his or one if his comrades head's off, a rock could hide a mine or a trap, ready to cripple or murder if someone was too careless to spring it. Everything was dangerous, and everything was out to get you.

His second war did little to alleviate this.

Returning to Star City, he couldn't see a testament to the work of his father and his predecessors of the Queen family. He didn't see the new apartment buildings made to house the citizens or the businesses created to help them put food in their families mouths. Every corner he turned to during his semi-routine walks, he could only see the worst the city had to offer. Prostitutes selling themselves for money, drug dealers waiting on the fringes of streets, visible just enough that anyone looking for them could easily spot them but also camouflaged enough to blend in with rest of the overflowing crowds around them.

Every glance put him on guard, every conversation he heard in passing registered as either a thinly veiled cover for an attack or a possible scrap of information he could use for the job. Simply walking in his own hometown among people he knew were majoritively no threat to him or anyone else made him feel on edge.

But as he stood on top of the tallest buildings in the city, waiting for his latest target to arrive, Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, couldn't help but feel relaxed for once in Star City. Nothing, not Pakistan, not Burma and not even the criminal element scurrying in the darkest corners could keep him from being swept up in something approximating Christmas cheer.

Star City, unlike Metropolis or Gotham, lacked its own identity, making it look just like any other big city in America most of the time. But this was Christmas Eve, mere minutes away from the strike of midnight and since the days of his grandfather, there was a special arrangement in place which nothing, not Gotham or Metropolis had. At the behest of his aforementioned, deceased, relative, from January 18th to January 25th, the various Queen Consolidated buildings strategically located within certain points in town would use special lights to create a pattern over the entire city: a star pattern.

Oliver stood at the building at the uppermost point of this star and though he couldn't see the entire pattern, he knew it was there, covering most of the town. In his childhood when he walked through the streets of town, pestering his mother and father for any number of things as all children do, the pattern made him feel as part of something bigger. As though he was living inside the star of some massive, incorporeal Christmas tree stretching out across the whole world and his city was the start on the top of it.

A smile graced his features as he recalled how sad he felt every time the pattern vanished, it meant the end of something special that he'd have to wait a whole other year to briefly enjoy. A pang of guilt and remorse suddenly struck him in the chest, for this year he would have to tarnish that pattern for all time, his latest and possibly greatest target thus far, maybe the greatest he'll ever face, would make sure of that.

Santa Claus was coming, and Oliver Queen was going to kill him.

In another world, one without Supermen and Batmen and kings of the sea and any other assortment of creatures who defied the laws of normalcy, he'd have found the very concept of Santa Claus actually existing preposterous. But one night when he just returned home from taking down a Mexican cartel shipping drugs into the city, Oliver encountered an actual honest to God Elf.

After beating the intruder and interrogating him, the Elf slowly but surely, thanks to acts of fantastic magical abilities proved the authenticity of its story though Oliver wished it was just a prank. Apparently, good ol' Saint Nick was far from the jolly old man everyone thought he was: it was just a facade made for marketing purposes. Across the centuries, special beings of magical persuasions positioned themselves in key areas of power across human society, hiding in plain sight as they manipulated us first through the Catholic church, then the corrupt nobles of Europe and now massive, mega corporations.

Seeing the monetary potential in Christmas long before market research was a thing, they'd approached Saint Nick with the idea of pushing his image across the world, to help spread joy and cheer to children the world over. But as the centuries passed, Santa Claus had become a degenerate psychopath. The stress of his job along with the money and influence he'd gained in the magical community had transformed him. He was no longer a simple man living in some magical area of the North Pole with his friendly elves, but a borderline ruler of his special kind of empire.

According to the Elf visitor, a relative of one of the factory workers currently building Santa's toys, the jolly old man spent most days hunting down Elves across dimensions. Stealing, bribing, killing and doing anything it took to expand his toy factories and to imprison generations of Elves into slavery. Men and women were born in the factory lines and more of often than not, died there, many had never even seen the sun shine.

His visitor had lost all hope of ever freeing his captured brethren until he had apparently heard of a champion of the downtrodden. A warrior who was willing to drive his hands into the grime of mankind and fight for those who couldn't. The homeless, the prostitutes, the recovering alcoholics and drug dealers and so he sought Oliver out, thus beginning his mission.

The visitor informed him that his relative had placed a special gift in Santa's sleigh: a time orb that would slow it down just above the tallest building in Star City enough for Oliver to shoot it down and hopefully, the fat bastard inside it. With 30 seconds left to his arrival, Oliver readied himself to fire, taking out an especially potent explosive arrow from his quiver and began scanning the air around the skyscraper.

A small part of him wished he wouldn't have to do this, to kill a symbol so many people cherished and loved, that he wasn't the monster the Elf had described. Every time this doubt crept up, however, Oliver stamped it out. He knew from personal experiences how people were not what they seemed, how they could fall or become corrupted or simply put on facades to placate those around them into happiness or a false sense of ease.

Santa Claus was one such being, and magical or not, Green Arrow was going to make him pay for his crimes.

A loud booming noise sounded about 10 feet above Oliver from the North-West and sure enough, there he was, floating up in the sky in some bizarre orb of cascading energy holding him in place. To Oliver's secret relief, he didn't have any of the reindeer hauling the sleigh across the night sky, but rather some other form of magic. Oliver wouldn't have to kill every symbol of Christmas tonight, at least.

With a swift series of motions, Oliver's bow sprang to action and arrow found its allotted target, he'd shot far smaller hits in far worse conditions than this. A few moments later, the magical orb slowing down time faltered and the sleigh managed to fly but a few measly meters before erupting in a ball of fire. For a moment, Oliver dropped his guard and simply watched the fires consume everything, slowly dissipating with the passage of time.

But only for a moment, the instincts responsible for keeping him alive thus far kicked it and leaped out of the way of a hailstorm of bullets sent his way. Leaping away from the edge of the building, Oliver rolled then ran towards the central spire protruding from the middle of the skyscraper for cover. It was only then that he could catch a glimpse of his attacker and found him floating in the air, roughly the same altitude as what was clearly a decoy sleigh.

"Santa Claus..." Oliver muttered, narrowing his eyes at the gleeful old man wielding a machine gun the length of Oliver's whole body. All around him, tiny toy soldiers reloaded the rifle with one holding the ammunitions box, another attaching a stream of bullets to it while another holds Santa's carton of milk for sipping.

"Oliver Queen!" Santa Claus joyously roared. "I cannot say I'm surprised you'd have the stones to try and kill even me!"

"Where's the Elf who tipped me off?" Oliver asked while readying another arrow. "What'd you do to him?"

"He and the rest of his ilk are waiting for me to return with your head," The sleigh suddenly sped up, removing Oliver's brief advantage of cover. "This will make a fine example for anyone with future aspirations of rebellion."

Oliver couldn't even get another shot out, the sleigh was too fast and the bullets far too numerous for him to even risk a glancing at the fat bastard, never mind attacking him. So, he switched to plan B, taking hold of the small crossbow he kept as a spare from his thigh, Oliver casually flung one of his flashbang arrows into the sky.

The blast of powerful, white light clearly blinded good ol' Saint Nick if his growls and curses at Oliver were any indication. With a window of opportunity open to him, Oliver took aim of Santa and all but managed to hit him when several more toys sprang into action. Wielding firearms of their own, the toys lit up the roof with almost as much force as the machine gun did.

This time, Oliver's instincts couldn't quite save him from harm.

A bullet to the shoulder and another grazing his knees told him it was time to get out of there. With a running jump, Oliver abandoned the roof and swung across the rooftops of Star City with the sleigh in constant pursuit. A chase only made worse with the recovery of Santa Klaus and the return of his machine gun to the cornucopia of weapons aiming for him.

He couldn't escape, not because it was impossible but because he'd accomplish nothing by doing so and he couldn't fight with this bullet farm perpetually after him. So, he would have to resort to something extreme and quite costly to pull off a win. Taking notice of a nearby empty office building, Oliver swung towards it and using the build up momentum smashed his body through the windows.

Without losing a step, he ran like a man possessed away from the sleigh crashing into the offices behind him. With a few explosive arrows flung towards the ceiling, the debris gave Oliver enough of a reprieve to hit the sleigh with a third arrow from his crossbow and to make for the staircase.

Whipping his phone out, Oliver executed one of the most desperate contingencies he came up with should a situation become particularly bad, and this most certainly qualified for him. The next few minutes passed with a tense but genuine calm as Oliver rushed towards the roof of the office building at the edge of the bay, expertly dashing up two dozen floors without so much as an ounce of fatigue encumbering him. He would most certainly pay for this exertion in the morning, however.

Upon reaching the roof, he wasn't surprised to find Santa's sleigh waiting for him. The old man had an uncomfortably sincere smile stretched across his face, it managed to make the two dozen guns pointed at Oliver all the more uncomfortable.

"Don't worry Oliver," The old man assured him. "My toys and I will do our best not to mess up your pretty face, the Elves will need a good look at their failed savior when they see your head mounted in the lobby."

"What, not even gonna give me a final Christmas present?"

"I can't let you live, I'm afraid."

"Oh, I didn't mean that," A grim smile graced Oliver's features as he heard the sound of jet engines rapidly approaching the sleigh. "I was gonna ask you to drop dead."

Before the old man could do much of anything, much less rip him to shreds, the Arrowplane rammed right into the sleigh, destroying itself but also its intended target. The two balls of destroyed, burning metal grazed the side of the office building with their rapid, irregular descent, smashing through concrete and windows before finally falling into the cold waters of the Star City bay.

And so fell Santa Claus, once a proud man who brought genuine happiness turned insane slave monger. But Oliver felt little pitty for the fat bastard, justice comes to all of us, whether man or mystical creature and tonight it was served.


	7. KIA2-1

**Green Arrow**

 **KIA: Vol. II**

 **#1**

" **The Death of."**

 **By George Jones**

* * *

" _ **O thou bewitching fiend, 'twas thy temptation hath robbed me of eternal happiness."**_

 **-Christopher Marlowe, The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus**

Frank Mathis was a simple man. He went to school, fought in the war, got married and raised two beautiful and well-behaved boys with a wife he pretended to love so very dearly. From a pedestrian point-of-view, one could say that Frank was happy. One could say that Frank had lived life to its fullest. That he had achieved some level of enlightenment. But Frank definitely would definitely not have. Frank would have said that he had spent his entire life being pushed along on autopilot. That he was never really free. As a child he was tossed around like an unwanted doll from foster home to foster home and, as a result, school to school. As a young adult, he was shipped off to Vietnam, fighting a war that he couldn't really comprehend the cause of. As a man he was tied up within the trap of marriage and, eventually, parenthood. Frank _never_ thought he was in control.

That was: until he came to Star City.

Sometime in the nineteen-eighties, after almost twenty years of marriage with the Venus fly-trap he called a wife and after ten years of fatherhood, Frank and a few friends went off on a business trip to America's diamond studded, tummy tucked, collagen pumped whore of a city. The place with no rules. The Queens, the Merlyns and the Rochevs ran the place without any real oversight from any federal organisations. They controlled the police, the courts, the clubs and the pimps. Frank, naturally, made friends with them, earning the name "Frankenstein" for his erratic and rabid behaviour. Every year he'd kiss his _"piece of shit"_ wife goodbye, say farewell to his _"waterheaded asshole"_ children and head off in his convertible to engage in an orgy of drugs, prostitutes and loud music. Every year the bridge of his nose would get slimmer and slimmer from the rocks that he'd scratch against the side of it with. Every year, Frankenstein was unleashed.

But one year, Frankenstein got too crazy. Too reckless. Too rabid. But by that point, Frank was far past the point of no return and a minor economic setback wouldn't stop him from having his fun. He asked around his equally depraved friends and almost all of them pointed him into the direction of the same man. The wee man. They spoke of the riches that the wee man could acquire for his clients but warned that he was not to be crossed. That failing to pay back one's debts to him could have fatal consequences. But surely Frankenstein could pull through. _Surely._ That is what he kept saying to himself all the way to the day the wee man finally came to collect.

In a frenzy, Mathis bolted through the fragile and falling-apart motel that he had decided to camp out in, lights flickering and failing all around him- room to room. In his hand sat a cheap but effective revolver, which was ready to slip out due to the buildup of sweat in Frank's palm. Mathis pointed his piece to the ceiling, firing a few shots before ordering everybody to leave. Everywhere he went, he could still hear the faint strumming of a guitar, as well as a sinister cackle. Everytime he tried to close a door, he could hear a fatal tapping. His death knocking on the door.

Eventually, death caught up with him. Eventually, the wee man decided that he was done playing games. He had a lot to do that night and it was probably best if he'd just get this over with. Frank found himself cornered in a bedroom, the guitar strumming louder and louder, the cackling coming to an abrupt end, the knocking on the door eventually ceasing. A raspy voice growled at Mathis from the hallway, beginning to chuckle once more as it said: "Oh. Frankie."

The rusting hinges of the thin wooden door let out a death cry as the whole thing slowly swung open. In the doorway stood a man of about four feet who gave the frightened old man a sadistic grin. He wore a bright green bowler hat, a tucked in, bloodstained white shirt and grey trousers. Everything about him seemed normal except for his size and those oddly scary, small, sinful eyes. Again, he growled, "Oh. Frankie."

"Stay back!" Frankie desperately wailed, "I got my piece!"

"Frankie. Frankie. Frankie-baby.

Pranced like a lady.

Made a deal-"

"Stop!"

"-with old Leppy.

Needed that medicine. Th't stuff that makes 'im _peppy_.

Leppy gave the lad a warning.

Said he'd be dead by this here morning.

That is: if he didn't pay.

That is: if he didn't let old Leppy have his way-"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"But Frankie insisted. He say:

I'll get you yer gold back mate,

Me? Let _you_ down? No _way_.

I wun't let me be no man you hate,

Dying? By _your_ hand? Snot _my_ fate.

 _Not now. Not ever_."

"Just give me some more time! Please! I'll get your money! Don't worry about it!"

Leppy paused.

"Ha! Just look at him now though,

Liar… like all the rest.

Now Leppy's gonna make it real slow,

When it comes to torture he's the _best_.

 _Now_ Leppy's gonna fill his mate Frankie with all kindsa _woe_.

Leppy ain't afraid to go down _low._

But don't take it personally.

Everybody knows

That if you fuck Leppy so dirtily-

Out of this mortal coil you goes!"

Leppy stepped closer.

* * *

 **YEARS LATER**

 _Things have changed. They've gotten… stranger. What was a crusade to bring justice to the downtrodden and spat-on in this city has turned into a desperate bet to hold back the chaos. And it's getting harder and harder._

 _Even before… Santa Claus… I ran into Simon Trent, Bloodsport- still at large. A racist sack of shit who decided to dress up in executioner garb and shoot up innocents whose only crime were that they weren't white. Every day their names make my way through my head, haunting me, making me even more determined to catch this maniac._

 _Devon Stewart. Jon Miller. Brian Cabrera. Sadie Cooke. Jodie Michaels. Eddie Burton. Billy…_

 _Well. You get the idea._

 _But after Bloodsport came the Bull. An ex-con who used to work for the Gobol Family. Eventually he decided to kill his bosses, dress up like a barnyard animal and challenge me to a fight on live TV. I took great pleasure in decapitating him. Though I tried so very hard to avoid it. About a month earlier, Death gave me a second chance, told me to become a spirit of redemption rather than death. For a short while I tried to. I tried my damndest to understand these people. But these suits? These people who dress themselves up in costumes and kill people for fun? There's NO rehabilitation for them. I saw the joy in the Bull's eyes. I saw the joy in Bloodsport's eyes. And it was the same as mine. Except… I'm here to protect… and they're here to destroy._

 _Take this guy. Lester Buchinsky. Calls himself the Electrocutioner. Enjoys shocking people to death with these homemade shock gloves of his and then doing… indecent things… to their bodies. What can you do to save THAT? What can you do to try to understand THAT? The answer is: nothing. Nothing at all. And that's why I'm going to end him. That's why tonight is the night the Electrocutioner falls._

The rain fell as hard and fast as a kamikaze jet on that night. The night Oliver Queen met Death again.

The rain served as a ticking clock for Lester Buchinsky, the Electrocutioner. He was hiding out in an abandoned warehouse, his last resort after everywhere else had been compromised. After he ran into the Green Arrow. After then, he'd been forced into living like an animal. He crawled around on the floor to avoid police spotlights and sirens. He tore apart rats and fried them with his gloves for food. He laid around in his own filth, not having the courage to go and look for a urinal or a toilet.

The Green Arrow finally caught up to him when the Electrocutioner spotted a lost and confused dame trodding around the outside of his kennel. The monster was unable to resist the urge to shock her and drag her into his jungle to have his way. It was at that point when the Green Arrow decided to strike, spotting the wild animal dragging its prey by the legs- ready to feast.

Crashing his way through the plated glass ceiling and bringing the rain's fury with him, the emerald archer landed before Buchinsky, hitting the ground with a loud thud. He dealt a blow to the Electrocutioner's stomach, knocking the man backwards into a nearby trash can and down onto the floor. The Green Arrow stood over him, unbothered by the parade of glass and water that fell onto him from above. Shadows masked his face, the tip of his hood hanging down to his nose. He smiled, "It's the end, Buchinsky."

Lester choked before beginning to chuckle, a sly smile on his face forming. "Fuck you."

"Ha. You really want _those_ to be your last words?" The Green Arrow laughed, pulling his bow from around his shoulder and reaching back for an arrow, "Heh. Actually. They're not bad now that I think about it… Shame there's no-one around to write em down."

"Fuck you _asshole_."

"Even better." He pulled the arrow back, "What was it…? Ah." He paused for a second. "Lester Buchinsky. You have fail-!"

In an instant, the Green Arrow was knocked down by Buchinsky's shock gloves, a hole being burned into the leather armour he wore on his abdomen. The filthy water splashed below him, almost consuming him, a few bits of glass being lodged in his back. Queen let out a groan, quickly trying to get back up until he took a boot to the face. Thump. Thump. Two feet landed on his stomach, and then a pair of knees on his chest. The Arrow tried to clutch his chest, still reeling from the shock that the Electrocutioner dealt to him. Reaching into the puddle of water below him, the Green Arrow desperately searched for something to help him until finding a relatively large piece of glass. Buchinsky began to laugh, his hands grabbing Queen's face, ready to shock him until the Emerald Archer slashed his face, the Electrocutioner then beginning to roll on the floor. After spewing out a great deal of spit and phlegm, Oliver got back to his feet. He croaked, "Alright. Note-to-self… catchphrases are a waste of time."

"Fuck you…" The Electrocutioner coughed, "You… you asshole piece of shit. You know… all of this… everything I did- you _inspired me to do it._ "

"What?"

"You… taking lives under a mask. Showing your true self under this veil of anonymity… getting all of that… aggression… out of you." The Electrocutioner groaned. "You made me think that I should do the same thing. I had all these thoughts, all these impulses, and I never knew how to get them outta me until _you_ showed up."

"I'm flattered." Still clutching the piece of broken glass, the Green Arrow lumbered back towards Buchinsky, grabbing the man by the chest and then jutting the self-made blade into his neck, blood spurting out and splattering against the vigilante's face. Queen relished in the carnage, the chaos, the ultraviolence. The Electrocutioner's final groan became a smooth symphony to him. The Arrow laughed, "And -finally- justice… justice is served."

All of a sudden, the air escaped from the room, every hair on Queen's body standing as if it were in court- And the Judge was Death. But he looked different, or rather, _she_ did. She still had the old guy's pale skin and his dark colour palette but she now wore a little more than a loin cloth. A black leather jacket coated her, matching her equally as dark tights and skirt. She was barefoot, her feet stepping through the broken glass on the floor unscathed. She shouted, "Damn it, Queen!"

"Ah shit. I thought you'd forgotten about me."

"I did." She paused, taking a deep breath, "That is: until you KILLED SANTA CLAUS!"

"Guy deserved it. There was no rehabilitation for him. No second chance. Man was bonkers."

"Could easily say the exact same about you."

"Yeah but, you see, the difference is: I'm not a slaver." Green Arrow said as he processed Death's new appearance, raising an eyebrow, "What's with the goth chick look?"

"Ugh. Sometimes I'm a lady, sometimes I'm a bald man in a loincloth, sometimes I'm a black guy on skis… just move past it." Death groaned, then pausing for a second. "Anyway. You screwed up."

"By taking out trash like that Bull guy or… him?" The Arrow kicked the carcass of The Electrocutioner, Death then taking notice of the dead body on the floor.

"Darn. That's not okay, man." She said, kneeling down and healing Buchinsky's wounds, resurrecting him.

"Hey. Hey! That guy does things to dead bodies!"

"I'm serious, Queen! I'm here cause your- addiction to me has gotten you into deep shit." She continued. "You don't know what you've done."

"I just did this city a favour by taking out him!"

"I'm not talking about _him…_ I'm talking about _Santa Claus_." Death paused. "Though this is _really_ bad too. I mean. Didn't you hear what he _said!?_ This little rampage of yours… it _created_ him!"

"Yeah. Yeah." Queen groaned. "What's this shit about Saint Nick?"

"Okay. I'll explain it to you…" Death spoke. "Before… before you _killed_ him- Santa Claus was having some financial issues."

"Uh-huh…"

"And he borrowed some money from the wrong guy. They call him the Leprechaun… because he's a Leprechaun."

"Alright. You're telling me I have to fight a Leprechaun." Oliver chuckled. "I have to _fight_ a _leprechaun_."

"There's no _fighting_ him. He was around millenia before you were born and he'll be around for an eternity after. The Leprechaun is eternal. There's no stopping him."

"Sure. But what does this have to do with me?"

"How the Leprechaun works is you borrow some money from him and he collects on the next St. Paddy's day- and if you don't pay up… well… he rips your soul out." Death then continued, "The point is it's supposed to be an unbreakable bond. The only way you can escape it is if you die. And if you die… well… whoever killed you has to pay your debt."

"And I killed Claus so…"

"...so you have to pay off his debt- which you'll never _ever_ be able to do."

"Alright then what's the point of this little talking to you're giving me?"

"I'm trying to tell you that you've lost the point of your mission. I mean, you barely even noticed that there's a dead woman laying right there." Death pointed to the blonde that the Electrocutioner had shocked.

"Oh. Yeah. Forgot about her." Queen said somewhat sarcastically, putting his guard up and hiding the disgust he had for himself.

"-A woman you _could've_ saved the life of. But no. You were more concerned with killing the Electrocutioner."

"Waiting for you to get to a point here."

"My point is: when the Wee Man comes after you, I'm not coming to save you again. I'm done. You didn't honour our agreement. You didn't even _really_ try to."

"What's all this fear over a damned Leprechaun?" Queen yelled almost breaking into hysterical laughter as he dodged the blow that Death dealt him, "Honestly. Come on."

She sighed, pulling out a pair of poloroid photographs from seemingly nowhere and scattering them onto the floor. Oliver kneeled down to pick them up, taking a good look at the torn and mangled corpse of a relatively fit and muscular old man. Death looked down at him, "That was a man named Frank Mathis."

"I recognise him." Queen spoke quietly, "I think I met him once when I was a kid. Friend of my dad's."

"They used to call him Frankenstein." Death uttered, "Served a few terms in Vietnam… expert killer. Every year he'd be called into Star City to pull off hit-jobs- mobster stuff- in return for cheap pleasures. There are even rumours that he helped to chase the Sionises out of the country."

"And yet… even he-"

"-could not outrun the Leprechaun."

"Death. Grim. Whatever. _Listen_ , you-"

"I'll give you one thing." Death cut Queen off, throwing a pocket watch at him, which he caught. "That's how much time you have left. How much time you have to get out of this."

"How?"

"Find a way."

"Show me one."

"Stop killing."

"It's not as simple as that."

"Then die."

"Please…"

"Bye, Oliver." Death said in an oddly in-your-face tone, leaving the Emerald Archer on his own to fight his way out of his curse. Queen looked down on the pocket watch, which worked as a regular watch would except it had a big number "4" printed in the centre. Just over four days left until St. Patrick's Day. Until the Leprechaun comes knocking.

* * *

 _ **TWO DAYS PASSED**_

 _Two self-proclaimed "wizards", one Mage, a couple of Translucia Baboons and still no luck. None at all._

 _I'm a dead man._

 _Oliver Queen. Heir to billions. War criminal. Vigilante. Killed Santa Claus. Slain by Leprechaun._

 _What a life it's been._

 _Santa Claus. Lucky bastard. I gave him a quick death. A fiery, molten grave. And what do I get? My soul torn out by an Irish Midget. Or dwarf. Sorry._

 _I get_ _ **that**_ _for killing a_ _ **slaver**_ _._

 _Could I have let him live? Sure. Could I have allowed my vision of justice to be him rotting in a county jail for the rest of his life? Probably. But. Could I have helped myself? Could I have starved myself of the enjoyment of watching that bastard explode into a fiery ball of death?_

 _Well. I don't know. And I guess that means I deserve what's coming to me._

 _Or maybe not. I made things better. I set innocent people free. I let them go and live their lives_ _ **free**_ _._

 _And Death. That bitch. Resurrects that monster Electrocutioner just for him to get out of jail and kill again. And again. And again. Hell. He'd probably come after me if I weren't already marked for death._

 _He'd come after me._

 _He'd come after_ _ **me**_ _._

 _Needs further thought_.

* * *

 _ **ONE DAY LEFT**_

Lester Buchinsky was haunted. Haunted by visions of his own death. Except they weren't visions, they were memories. Memories of a death that never happened. He remembered choking on a fountain of his own blood as the Green Arrow cackled and cursed, slashing his throat. He remembered the agonising pain, the desperate attempts to stop the bleeding, the pale white woman that stood over him. Or the skeleton in black robes. Or the African-American man in skis and colourful armour. He couldn't remember for the life of him.

After being discovered in an abandoned warehouse with a dead woman lying next to him, Buchinsky was (logically) moved to Star City County Jail. And after having a mental breakdown about seeing his own death, Buchinsky was moved to the newly built psychiatric wing of Star City County Jail. There he found a rogues gallery of the Green Arrow's enemies, a hall of fame. The ones who got away. The ones who survived by the skins of their teeth. A clock king with no hands. A fairy without wings. A broken brick wall. People who were the same as him, except the Electrocutioner got out of his ordeal with the Arrow relatively unscathed. Unscathed but for the dreams of his own death, which kept hounding him throughout his stay at the psychiatric wing.

Buchinsky tried watching the television in the rec-room: there was nothing really interesting on the news except reports of a new, experimental pacemaker being stolen from R&D in Queen Consolidated. He tried listening to music but all they had was old 30's jazz and 70's progressive rock, which wasn't to his taste. Either way, neither would help him. Nothing could distract him from the horror his own mind was becoming.

When he returned to his cell, however, he was greeted with a very peculiar sight. For one, there was a massive hole in the wall, which led to the wilderness outside. In addition to this, he found his complete Electrocutioner gear fully charged and a note. The note read,

" _The Queen Mansion. Tomorrow. 11:30PM. DON'T BE LATE."_

 _ **THE NIGHT OF**_

Oliver Queen died that night. The night the Leprechaun came. He had a plan. He knew how to get out of his curse. But he couldn't escape death. All he could do was accept it. All he could do was embrace her.

He chose the Queen Mansion as his stage. Somewhere he would happy to die in. Somewhere with memories. His father. His mother. His sister. Even if the place had become a mausoleum, he could still feel the warmth and comfort of the days before he was stabbed in the back. He was numb to the cold midnight chill. Walking up the broken and splintered stairs he found his old bedroom, his Errol Flynn bow still on its stand as the centrepiece. He rubbed his finger against it, brushing the dust away with his thumb. His head ticked to his desk, his eyes scanning the framed photographs of his family, then taking a deep breath and knocking them over, face-down. _They can't see this._ Queen thought, _I can't let them watch me die again._

Queen thought of Death. She (or he- it depends) believed in him. She saw a glimmer of something good within him, something other than the vengeful wrath of a wronged demon. She gave him a second chance when he didn't deserve it. And for that he felt grateful and guilty. Guilty that he would fail her again. That he would get away with being a monster again. That he would receive a third chance. A third chance he most certainly did not deserve.

Taking a glance from his bedroom window, Queen noticed the shadow of a tall, stocky man and the blaring of a bright electric blue light. Closing his fist and swinging his arm, he then destroyed the window, giving a sign. All was going as planned. He then pulled out the pocket watch Death gave him, nervously smiling. Everything was on schedule. Then came the knocking, which never stopped. Oliver's heart stopped. A lump formed in his throat. A deep, booming Irish voice spoke, "Oh Olly…"

"Uh. Give me a sec. I'm kinda naked in here." Queen laughed, trying to calm himself down. "Maybe you can come back later?"

"Oh Olly…"

"Really. I'm just a little-"

"Olly."

The door, rather than screeching open or dramatically swinging, disappeared within the blink of an eye, leaving a black void which was partly filled with a small, red-eyed Irish devil. "Oh." Olly's voice squeaked, his fingers itching his chest. "Just… come in then."

"Oliver Queen. Green Arrow. The Archer.

Had money. A life. Was prince of this city

But tired of wealth. Made his departure.

Went off to war. But found it much too gritty,

So comrades betrayed him but they wun't too witty.

"Oh- you rhyme?"

"Cos he crawled his way back.

He clawed his way up to the light,

He made them all see black,

As he prowled across the city at night.

"It's all about justice!" He said, "Cos in this city there's a _lack_!"

But it soon changed, because for killing: it seemed he had a _knack_."

"Not wrong there."

"It became about him and his addiction,

His addiction to Death.

For he loved her so, and around himself he created a fiction.

"These people deserve it!" He says, "Is my job to see em breathe their last _breath_!"

But between he and his love he created a _friction_.

Death made him a deal."

"Nice recap but I-"

"He said he'd save his soul if he left him alone,

But the thought of that chilled Olly to the bone,

So he acted out, killed Mr. Claus,

Had no idea of the trouble he'd cause,

Cos now he's broken a certain set of laws.

Mine."

"You done yet because-?"

"Now, he didn't cross Leppy but he took away his prey,

And that's as bad as fucking him over.

Now Leppy's gonna take Queen's soul _away_ ,

He usually does it pretty quick but now he's gonna take it _slower_.

But don't fret, Mr. Queen, my _brother_.

Soon you'll be with Death again, your eternal _lover_."

"Hmn. That was nice. Now, you gonna get to the-?"

"WAAAAAAARROW!" Queen was suddenly cut off by the war cry of Lester Buchinsky, the Electrocutioner, who crashed his way through the wall like a battering ram, particles of plaster and wood exploding into the air like shrapnel. The Green Arrow closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer as he accepted death. As he embraced Death.

His heart stopped. The Electrocutioner grabbed his chest. An electrical jolt ran through Queen's body, causing him to spasm and drop dead on the floor. The Leprechaun's chuckle echoed through the room, the creature taking a breath as if to go into another rhyme. Everything went black as the ground seemed to disappear, the Green Arrow beginning to float in mid-air, his surroundings becoming completely irrelevant. From the darkness, a bright light began to form, the light of the silver ankh that Death wore around her neck. The woman stepped over to his palsied, broken body, putting her hand on his heart.

"How did it feel?" Death asked. "Was it as painless as you hoped?"

"It was… hell."

"You don't know hell. Not yet." She sighed, "You know, it didn't have to be like this. If you'd have just honoured our deal… you could've gone _up_. Hell, you could've even lived on. In a better life."

"An ignorant life."

"But a life free of _this_. Free of _me_. Free of addiction." Death paused for a second, then continuing, "Soak it in, Olly. Here it is, your last hit… was it worth it? In the end?"

"End?" Queen ominously laughed. "End!? No. I have the feeling you and I are going to be seeing a lot more of each other."

"What do you mean?" Death whispered as everything, all of sudden, began to become a lot brighter, the Green Arrow's laughing becoming increasingly more intense.

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

 _ **THE DAYS AFTER**_

 _On St. Patrick's Day, 2017, the Star City Police Department found two bodies in the abandoned Queen Mansion in the Palisades._

 _The first, the heavily mangled and mutilated carcass of Lester Buchinsky, a recently escaped convict who called himself the Electrocutioner._

 _The second, the body of the Green Arrow, Oliver Queen, who was found shocked to death in his bedroom._

 _The same night, an autopsy was performed on Buchinsky and cancelled on the Green Arrow after a working pacemaker was found in the vigilante's chest. An experimental pacemaker which had been stolen from Queen Consolidated a couple of days ago._

 _A pacemaker that, unbeknownst to the Star City Police Department, was keeping the Green Arrow alive._

 _The next night, Oliver Queen rose from the dead. He awakened in the morgue, assaulted 30 police officers, put one forensic analyst in the hospital and took his gear back from evidence._

 _In the morning, news of Queen's resurrection broke to the press, just hours after the announcement of his and his vigilante persona's deaths. And all across the city, criminal scum shook in fear._

 _I did it._

" _Death twitches my ear;  
'Live,' he says...  
'I'm coming."  
_ _ **― Virgil**_

* * *

 **Stay tuned for more chapters in this series! While you're at it, check out some of the other Wave I DC Redux titles in this bold, new universe, which include: Batman: Beyond Gotham, Green Lantern: The Book of Oa, The Flash: Incandescent Legacy and Green Arrow: KIA.**

 **Also be sure to check out some of the NEW Wave II DC Redux titles coming out, such as, Catwoman: Valentina, DC Redux Showcase Presents and Wonder Woman: Young Americans!**


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